


Next to You (The Skies are Blue)

by thingcalledlove



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Prompt Fill, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingcalledlove/pseuds/thingcalledlove
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written in ages, so apologies in advance if I'm a little rusty. I hope you enjoy!  
> The title comes from Miley Cyrus 'Malibu'

Clarke was fuming.

The glare on her face had others on the sidewalk giving her a wide berth as she marched past them. She could feel the rage, barely contained, simmering beneath her skin. She narrowed her eyes as she approached her destination.

She swung open the door of the quaint little flower shop with more force than she had intended, garnering looks from its occupants. The shop appeared to be less of a shop and more of boutique, with flowers of the native and exotic variety displayed in every spare inch of the place. It was nauseatingly beautiful.

Clarke strode forward confidently, ignoring the looks as she purposefully walked up to the counter. She slammed a $20 bill down and looked expectantly at the unfairly gorgeous brunette who manned the register. 

 “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

There was a beat of silence, and then the girl behind the counter looked at Clarke as if she was bat-shit crazy (which may not have been completely untrue at this point). Her eyes moved from Clarke to the wrinkled $20 and back to Clarke. She held up a finger, the universal symbol for ‘just a minute’, and plastered a delicate smile on her face as she stood up on her tip toes and looked over Clarke’s head at something or someone behind her.

Clarke followed her gaze, but failed to see what the girl, Octavia if going by her name tag, was so interested in.

“Bell?” Octavia called out at last, sounding slightly desperate, ‘Could come over here please? I think your particular skill set is better suited for assisting this particular...customer.”

Clarke couldn’t even bring herself to feel offended. She was too focused on getting her passive-aggressive gesture just right. Google had led her to believe that this was place to get it done. The 4.8 rating alone made it cuts above anything else in the city.

“So you’re trying to tell someone to get fucked?” A deep voice asked, pulling Clarke out of her reverie. Clarke didn’t know what she expected from flower expect Bell, but tall, dark and brooding certainly wasn’t it. The man came around the counter with a devious little smirk as he looked her up and down. He held out hand, ‘Bellamy.’

“Uh, Clarke,” she responded letting him take her hand into his own and giving it a firm shake. She was momentarily stunned by his, well, _everything_.

“Unfortunately,” he said with a sigh, “we don’t have that particular arrangement on hand. It doesn't quite go with aesthetic my sister is trying to create here.” He tilted his head in the direction of the brunette Clarke had just been talking to. She had hightailed away from Clarke as soon as Bellamy had shown up and was now helping another customer.

“Oh,” Clarke said a bit dejectedly. It was an odd request for sure, but she was kind of hoping that they could make it work.

Bellamy gave her a dazzling smile, “I still think I can whip something up for you. A custom arrangement. It’ll be all the more special.”

Clarke returned his smile with a hesitant one of her own. Her rage was starting to dwindle in the company of this magnetic stranger, who apparently was some kind of flower connoisseur. He led her through aisles and aisles, muttering to himself with a slight crease on his forehead as he examined the options, not picking anything up but clearly making some sort of mental notes as he went along.

“Alright,” he said after a few minutes, roping her back into the conversation that he had been having with himself, “Give me some background information. What’s the story here?”

He turned on his heels so he was facing hers, his dark eyes boring into her own. “I’m not trying to pry,” he assured her, “but flowers say so many things, and there are different flowers for different types of fuck you’s. I just want to know which ones will suit our needs the best,” he said with a wink.

Clarke let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I got time,” he said, giving her his full attention. He motioned for her to follow him as he led her deeper into the shop until they reached a door that indicated it was the use of staff only. Bellamy didn’t seem to care too much as he held it open for Clarke.

The small break room was empty, but it radiated coziness from the overstuffed couch against the wall to the small table on the left side of the room. Flowers were prominent here as well, but much less overbearing. Bellamy pulled down two mugs from one of the cupboards and filled them both three quarters of the way with coffee. He set both mugs on the table along with a basket filled with sugar packets and creamers. “Like I said, I got time.”

Clarke sat across from him, the last remnants of her rage and anger draining from her. She was left feeling cold.

Bellamy frowned, noticing the change in demeanor, “Hey, you don't have to talk about it, we can just enjoy the shitty coffee.”

“I want to,” Clarke said firmly, lips quirking up slightly at his comment. The coffee was pretty shit. “It’s just a big mess, and I haven’t really had anyone I could turn to that wasn’t already familiar with the situation. All my friends already have their opinions, and frankly I'm getting tired of them implying that I need to let it go. You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“Try me, Princess,” Bellamy drawled with a devious glint in his eyes. It was enough to get a girl going. Well it was enough to get this particular girl going, Clarke thought wistfully.

“I wasn’t a popular kid growing up,” Clarke said with a reminiscent smile, “I preferred to stick to my books than to hang around with most of the other kids. That changed when I met Harper. She was my first real female friend. She was kind of perfect to 10 year old me. Everyone loved Harper, and put up with me because of her. It wasn’t until high school that I came out of my shell a bit more. I started getting attention without Harper’s influence. In hindsight, I don’t think she liked that much.”

Clarke shook her head. The intensity in which Bellamy watched her caused a group of butterflies to flutter about wildly in her chest.

“Anyways, fast forward to senior year of high school when I got into my first serious relationship. I was head over heels in love with this guy. We brought him into our group. I was happy. Murphy and I were together for three years. I stayed in the city for school while he had gone to the coast, but we made it work. Until it didn’t. I will never forget the day he called. He simply said it was over. I didn’t leave my bed for a week. Fast forward another few months and all of a sudden he’s dating Harper.”

“What a dick,” Bellamy stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

“Tell me about it,” Clarke muttered, “Obviously it made waves, and not just with me. We were a tight nit group, and my friends felt the betrayal just as hard as I did, but Harper always had a way with words, and was able to talk herself back into everyone’s good graces. Just not mine. This happened years ago, Bellamy. I know it doesn’t sound like I’m over it, but I am. It’s just that this morning, I got a wedding invitation in the mail. They are getting married. Do you know how infuriating that is? They both betrayed me, but they still get their happily ever after, while I’m stomping around in flower shops being forced to send them a congratulatory fuck you arrangement.”

“You have every right to feel the way you do. Don’t apologize for it,” Bellamy said softly. His fingers drummed on the table as he mulled over the story Clarke had just spouted. “I think I know just the arrangement for you.”

Clarke followed him out of the staff lounge, towards a gaudy vase that most would find distasteful, but Harper would love. Bellamy threw her another wink, which made her want to melt into a puddle. She was going to have to start gifting flowers more often if she wanted a chance to see his face on the regular, which she very much did.

“Foxglove,” he said pulling a few loose and plopping them into a vase, “they represent insincerity, which I think is a given in this situation.”

Clarke cracked a smile as she followed him to his next stop.

“Meadowsweet, for uselessness,” he said shoving them not all that gently into the vase before turning to the section of carnations.

“Yellow carnations,” He said, gesturing for Clarke to grab a handful, “the general message they give is essentially ‘you have disappointed me’ and that is what we are going for here.”

He walked down another isle and plucked some orange lilies from their stand. “Good old fashioned hatred,” he said with lopsided smile.

“And finally,” he said as he dumped a few geraniums into the mix, “stupidity, because I’ve only known you for a good thirty minutes or so, and I can already tell you that a man has to be blindingly stupid to ever let you go, Princess.”

Clarke felt herself flushing at the obvious compliment in his statement. It had been a while since she had really paid attention to someone, but oh boy was she paying attention. She had practically forgotten all about Harper and Murphy at this point.

Bellamy walked her and her arrangement to the counter.

Clarke felt herself pale slightly for a very different reason. She had taken a glance around the place as Bellamy led her around, and from what she observed, her 20 bucks would hardly pay for a stem let alone an entire arrangement. A custom arrangement at that.

Bellamy seemed to key into her thoughts, and just shook his head in a way that didn’t leave much room for argument, “Consider it paid for.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said sincerely, and not only for the flowers.

“I’m glad I could help,” he replied sounding just as sincere.

After writing down the delivery address and jotting a sarcastic congratulations message on the card Bellamy provided, Clarke left the shop very much in contrast to the way she entered. She let out a giddy laugh once she was outside for no other reason than that she wanted to. She pulled out her phone and opened her calendar app. She was having dinner with her parents on the weekend, which could occasionally be a painful affair.

Flowers might help, she thought to herself. She knew just where she could get them. Or more like who she could get them from.  


	2. two

Clarke knew it was getting a little ridiculous, but it didn’t stop her from entering the quaint little flower shop for the 4th time in as many weeks. It wasn’t the gorgeous flowers that brought her there either. 

In her few weeks of visiting, she found out that the Blake siblings inherited the shop from their mother, who had gotten it from her father and so on. When Octavia got her hands on it, she decided to take it to the next level. Octavia and Bellamy both owned and managed the shop, but the real money came from doing floral arrangements for events, which Octavia thrived at. During one of Clarke’s visits, she flipped through a binder of events that Blake’s had worked for and she had been surprised to see very famous faces amongst them. It explained why Clarke could barely afford a daisy.

“Clarke!” Octavia said as she stepped into the shop. She was much happier to see her nowadays than she had been the first time. 

Clarke smiled as she walked up to the counter that Octavia was working at; preparing a very intricate bouquet that was done in every shade of purple imaginable. She gave the store a quick glance around, which Octavia noticed immediately. 

“He’s not here today,” she said coyly.

“Oh,” Clarke startled, trying to back pedal, “I wasn’t looking for Bellamy.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Octavia replied with a knowing smirk. Clarke felt herself flush slightly because she _had_ been looking for Bellamy. She just didn’t realize how obvious she was being about it. 

Did he know? The thought made her flush harder. She kind of wished the earth would swallow her whole. Did he think she was annoying? A stalker? He was nice to her, and she had latched on to him like a parasite. She hadn’t even been listening to Octavia until she heard the word ‘Murphy’. 

“Wait, what?” Clarke asked, completely alert. 

“Yeah, I know,” Octavia snorted, “I can’t believe they loved the ‘fuck you’ flowers so much that they wanted us to do their wedding! Bellamy took immense pleasure in showing them the binder, and then the price list that goes with it.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. That price list was no joke. “And?”

“And they paled, and simply said they would need to discuss it some more, and wanted to look at a few other places as well before deciding,” Octavia chuckled. 

Clarke couldn’t help but feel slightly vindicated. She shrugged it off. She had spent enough time thinking about people that shouldn’t matter.  She rather focus on the ones that did. Speaking of which...

“So where is Bellamy today? He usually lives here,” Clarke joked.

 “He’s at the university,” Octavia answered, holding up two different purple flowers that Clarke couldn’t name, silently asking for an opinion. Clarke nodded towards the left one, and Octavia nodded in agreement, “He’s working on his PhD part-time, because he’s the world’s biggest nerd.”

Clarke could the teasing fondness in the brunette’s voice as she said this. 

“Well I just dropped by to say hi,” Clarke tried to explain nonchalantly, but the flush creeping up her neck would be a dead giveaway at exactly how nonchalant she was not. 

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” Octavia asked innocently, but there was a devious glint in her eyes, the same one she had seen in Bellamy’s time and time again. 

“I, uh, it isn’t, um...”Clarke stumbled over her words, trying to string together a coherent sentence. 

“Oh please,” Octavia cut in with an eye roll, “You’re both pathetic. Pathetic enough that you would be great for each other. I’ve already tried convincing him to ask you out, but the boy is hopeless. He has some dumb noble idea in his head that you’re still healing or some shit. He doesn’t want to push you.”

Clarke couldn’t help but melt slightly at those words. Well the second part of Octavia’s statement at least. She was not pathetic. Mostly. Sometimes. Occasionally. Okay so maybe she was. It was perhaps the reason that she turned on her heels and bolted out the door as fast as she could, Octavia’s melodious laugh floating after her.

\-------

Clarke gritted her teeth as she started at the medical charts in front of her. Her patients had all been tended too, and most were waiting on test results to come back up from the labs, which meant there was a whole lot of downtime with not much to do. As a third year resident, she had built a nice routine for herself during her shifts. Today’s was an unusually quiet one, with no life threatening injuries or illnesses in her batch of patients. 

She sat at the nurses stations in putting some information from the charts into the online database that the hospitals in the area shared.  Octavia’s words from the night before kept spinning around in her head. 

She found herself on Google. Clarke took a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching too carefully and then entered in a few words. She found what she was looking for relatively easily. She jotted a few things down on her prescription pad and then tucked that piece of paper into the pocket of her scrubs. 

\-------

Clarke marched into the flower shop with purpose. Octavia’s eyes lit up as they met her own. 

“Bells in the staff room,” Octavia grinned.

“I’m not here for him,” Clarke said quickly, “I need your help with something.”

She slapped the piece of paper on the counter, reminiscent of the $20 bill from what felt like eons ago.  

Octavia frowned as she looked over the list, “Mauve Carnations. Corianders. Coral or Orange Roses.”

“Yes, please,” Clarke said with a tight nod. She was starting to reconsider her idea. 

 “Okay,” Octavia said finally, “When and where do you need these?”

‘As soon as possible,” Clarke replied, feeling a flush once again creeping upwards, “And your brother’s place?”

It came out sounding like a question. Octavia froze for a moment and then bust out into laughter. She nodded furiously. “Consider it done!”

Clarke held out her credit card. She trusted Octavia to make the bouquet perfect. Octavia tried to wave her away, but Clarke persisted. Finally Octavia accepted the card from her outstretched hand and keyed in a price that Clarke suspected was heavily discounted. 

Clarke picked up one of the blank note cards and scrawled her phone number down on it along with her name. 

It wasn’t until she left that she contemplated what she had just done.

\------

The ringing of her phone alarmed her. 

Clarke sat up in bed, bewildered at the idea that someone had the audacity to actually call her during her ‘me time’ (which consisted of Netflix and eating junk food in bed). Everyone in her circle knew that she was the girl you texted, never called. Even her mother abided by these strict rules (on most occasions. Okay fine, like 50% of the time, but that was huge for her mother).

The number was unfamiliar, which had her frowning as she answered with a stern hello.

“Clarke? Hey I must have caught you at a bad time,” the caller said hesitantly. Clarke could recognize that low sultry tone almost immediately. She dreamt about it almost every night. 

“Bellamy! Hey, no! It’s a great time,” Clarke replied quickly, her tone much less hostile now. “What’s up?”

“I got your flowers,” he answered sheepishly. Clarke could practically hear him smiling on the other end. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. She had done her best to repress the memory of her unusually impulsive decision.

“Oh?” Clarke replied, “What do you think?”

“Not bad at all,” Bellamy answered with a laugh, “Although, there does seem to be a message associated with the type of flowers you picked out.”

“What sort of message?” Clarke asked innocently, causing Bellamy to chuckle from the other end of the line. 

“Shall I be blunt?” 

“Please do,” Clarke said in a teasing tone.

“You’ve essentially sent me ‘fuck you’ flowers,” Bellamy said his voice low and rumble-y. “But, you know, the literal kind.”

“That sounds about right, then,” Clarke said boldly. She couldn’t help herself.  He let out a laugh that turned into a groan.

“Alright then, Princess,” he drawled, “You let me know when you want to collect on that.”

“How about now?” The words were out of her mouth before she even realized she had said them. There was a momentary silence that felt like it went on forever.

“Are you sure?” Bellamy asked, sounding both confused and serious.

“Yes.” Once again, her mouth and brain were not in communication with each other.  

“Clarke.”

“I’m serious Bellamy. Come over. Now...unless you were just joking and didn’t actua—”

“I meant it,” Bellamy cut in, “Text me your address.”

\------

“What have I done?” Clarke said aloud in her empty loft apartment. The place was a mess. Hell she was a mess. The sheets were covered in crumbs and her bedside tables were littered with soda and junk food wrappers and packets. On the other side of the divider that separated her ‘room’ from the kitchen and living area was in a state of chaos. Medical journals sat hap hazardously in piles on random pieces of furniture. The kitchen still had her dirty dinner dishes soaking in the sink, and the walkway was blocked by her clean, not yet folded pile of laundry.

She did the best she could with cleaning the place up slightly. Which meant she shoved most of the mess into random nooks and crannies, out of sight, for the most part. 

She had just finished shoving the last of the now clean dishes back into the cupboard when a knock on the door startled her. With one last glance around she made her way for the door.

Bellamy stood on the other side with his hand in the pocket of his jeans. He wore a light grey Henley that snugly covered his upper body in a way that made Clarke want to drool. He grinned down at her, a twinkle in his eye.

"Come in," Clarke managed after a moment too long. He walked in, taking a good look at his surroundings. Clarke tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she continued to admire him.

"Nice place," he said sincerely, his hands still in his pockets. He looked a bit unsure as to how to proceed.

"Thanks," Clarke answered casually, she felt his eyes give a quick up and down before meeting her own gaze. "Sorry, I didn't have time to change." She was still wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She was suddenly becoming aware of how short those shorts may be. 

"You look perfect," Bellamy said in a tone that could not be taken as anything other than completely genuine. 

"Fuck it," Clarke muttered as she took a fistful of his shirt and pulled him towards her, closing the gap. She didn't give him any time to process before her mouth was on his. To his credit, he only hesitated for the briefest moment before he returned her kiss in spades. 

His arms wrapped around her waist pulling her up flush against his chest. The kiss was hard and rough and everything Clarke had hoped it would be. She felt his tongue swipe out and lick her bottom lip. She groaned, giving him access. His hands moved to cup her butt, and suddenly she was airborne. She let out a surprised gasp as he lifted her up and maneuvered her legs around his hips. She could feel him beneath the thick denim. Her hands were in his hair, tugging on the soft curls until he let out a groan on his own. 

He walked them backwards until they hit a wall. Clarke felt herself being pushed up against the wall not all too gently. A rock and a hard place indeed, she though as she rocked her hips, grinding down onto his own. He nipped her bottom lip in retaliation as his he fumbled with getting her shirt up and off. His quick intake of breath reminded her that she hadn't been wearing a bra. Clarke returned the favour eagerly pawing at his Henley until it was up, over his head and discarded immediately in a heap on the floor.

With her legs still secured around his hips she leaned back putting some space between them so she could admire the perfection that was shirtless Bellamy.

"Wow," she mumbled in appreciation. 

He smirked, "I could say the same for you."

"How about we say less and do more?" Clarke suggestion with a wink.

His gave her a lopsided grin, a wicked gleam in his eye that had Clarke's heart start to race. He moved suddenly, his tongue flicking over her hardened nipple while his fingers gently caressed the other one. Clarke's head fell back with a sigh of pure bliss, letting him work her into a bit of a frenzy.

His hand dropped from her nipple and ran down her stomach cause goosebumps to rise in its wake. His fingers played with the waistband of her shorts, teasingly before moving down to rub her through the thin fabric. Clarke shuddered at the touch, wanting him closer. 

"Bed," she directed sounding a bit breathless.

Bellamy willingly obliged, carrying her over to the bed and setting her down on it. 

"Pants off," Clarke demanded, propping herself up on her elbows to watch. He didn't look quite so nervous now as she watched him unbutton his jeans before leisurely sliding them down, leaving him in a tight black pair of boxer briefs.  She was very aware of certain parts of his anatomy that appeared to be straining against the fabric. 

Clarke sat up and scooted over to the edge of her bed. She bit her lip slightly as she looked up at him beneath her lashes. Her fingers reached out to touch the tight muscles of his abdomen. Her nails raked the warm skin as she watched him watching her. She tugged on his boxer briefs until they fell to the floor. Bellamy stepped out of them, kicking them blindly. 

With a cheeky little smile, she wrapped her lips around him, causing him to swear profusely. His hand wrapped itself in her hair, guiding her as she used her mouth, tongue and hands to make him lose control. His eyes rolled back and his grip on her hair tightened before he forced her to stop. 

"Problem?" Clarke asked innocently, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Yeah, if you keep doing that, I may not make it to the fun part," Bellamy replied in a rough, gravelly voice that caused Clarke to flush out of pure want. 

"This seems pretty fun to me," Clarke quipped nonchalantly, adding a shrug for effect. 

"Oh, I'll show you fun," Bellamy countered. He had her on her back before she knew what happened, his body a welcome weight pressed up against his own. He had her shorts and panties off with a quick pull, leaving nothing between them. 

Bellamy leaned down for a kiss, softer than the one they shared earlier. She could feel his lips lingering against her own, shifting them so that he was settled between her legs. He reached a hand down between them, and Clarke moaned has he came in contact with her clit. He thumbed it lazily as he watched her. 

Clarke almost protested when he moved his hand, but it was quickly replaced by the head of his cock. With a few minor adjustments and sweet nothings whispered between them, he pushed into her, slowly. It was a tight fit, and it hurt, but in a way that promised pleasure tenfold. 

"You good?" He asked, fully inside, allowing her body to adjust to his. Clarke nodded, her nails already digging into his shoulders as he hovered over her. They started slow, building up a rhythm they were both comfortable with, the silence only being punctured by her breathy sighs and his heavy groans. Bellamy picked up the pace, his dark eyes meeting her own. She could feel herself on the edge, she just needed a little nudge. As if he had heard her thoughts, he reached a hand between them to work her clit with his fingers and he pumped in and out of her. The additional sensation had her body tensing right as she tumbled over the edge, her sighs turning into gasps and she tumbled down the wave of her orgasm. Every single nerve in body becoming sensitive to the touch. Bellamy didn't relent as he pushed on further, harder, until finally he came with a groan. She felt his exhaustion as he let his full weight rest on her for a moment before using whatever strength he had left to flip them over, putting Clarke on top, not yet ready to separate. 

"Round two?" Clarke asked coyly after a few minutes of a comfortable silence. His laughter reverberated through her.

"Definitely," He mumbled, "Just give me another minute."

"We have all night," Clarke said as she peppered a few kisses on his chest.

"I was hoping we'd have more than just tonight," Bellamy replied hesitantly. 

"I'd like that," Clarke said with a smile, as warmth filled her at the thought.

\--------

Clarke had to grudgingly admit that the wedding was actually, kind of not terrible. She was not thrilled to be there by any means, but it was not as painful of an affair as she had prepared for it to be. That might have had to do with the man by her side. Her boyfriend. Bellamy Blake. 

"You know," Clarke whispered as they watched the couple during their first dance, "I saw a conference room just down the hall that we could probably slip into."

"You're insatiable," Bellamy teased with a grin. 

"Only when it comes to you," Clarke countered.

"Well, I've never been one to deny you," Bellamy said with soft chuckle, taking her hand in his own and giving it a light squeeze. "Why start now?"

"I was hoping you'd say that."

\--------

Exactly one year after she met Bellamy, she woke up to a bouquet of red roses on her bedside table. Despite her lack of ability to speak in flowers, even she knew what a red rose stood for: deep, genuine, sincere, unadulterated love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize that it took two and half months to get this chapter out. I'm not even sure if anyone wants to read it anymore, but it is out now. I hope it was somewhat worth the wait. I'm not the greatest at sex scenes, so I hope this one didn't come across too rusty. 
> 
> I'd love any feedback you may have! Thank you for reading <3


End file.
